Chasing The Wrong Dream
by DobbyRocksSocks
Summary: Oliver is chasing his glory days, and Fred has had enough. Can Oliver man up enough to save his marriage? Rated for bad language and suggestive themes.


**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Written for; Mythology Assignment, Hera - Someone trying to save their marriage.**

 **Challenge list at the bottom.**

 _Beta'd by my lovely Amber_

 **WC without AN - 2503**

* * *

 **Chasing The Wrong Dream**

* * *

The newspaper was open on the table to the moving picture of himself wrapped around a younger man. Oliver rolled his eyes, leaving the kitchen for the stairs, to see if Fred was home. He found him in their bedroom.

There was a duffle bag half filled on the bed, and Fred stood in front of the wardrobe.

"What are you doing?"

When Oliver looked properly at Fred, he was surprised to see tear stains on his cheek and a look of utter betrayal in his eyes.

"Fred?"

"I'm packing," Fred replied dryly. "I'd say the bag on the bed is fairly self evident."

"Well, yes, but why?" Oliver asked frowning. "Is this because of the picture in the Prophet?"

"So the partying last night didn't addle your brain too much then," Fred retorted, grabbing a few more shirts from their hangers.

"Fred…" Oliver was at a loss. "There's been rumours for years. Why are you choosing to believe them now?"

"A picture's worth a thousand words, Ollie. Before, I could brush them off, because they were just rumours. Now…" Fred looked at him. "How do I deny it when there's photo evidence?"

"We were just dancing!"

Fred snorted, grabbing some jeans out of one of his drawers. "You don't get that close to me when we're having sex, Ollie. I'm done."

He took his wedding ring off and put it on his nightstand. Putting the strap of the duffel over his shoulder, he looked at Oliver a final time. "I hope you find whatever it is that you're looking for."

Oliver was left alone in the bedroom, wondering how on earth everything had gone to pot so very quickly.

…

 **Oliver Wood, Quidditch Bachelor Once More**

 _In a surprise move, joke shop owner, Fred Weasley, has walked out on his eleven year marriage to Quidditch star, Oliver Wood._

 _Of course, after the photos that were published in this very paper not two weeks ago, you wouldn't think it surprising for Fred to have left, but over the eleven years the two of them have been married, and the three years before that when they were steadily dating, so many rumours have cropped up and been blown off by Mr Weasley that many believed that he was with Mr Wood for something other than love._

 _Now that the evidence can no longer be denied, it seems that Mr Weasley has had enough of Mr Wood's playboy antics._

 _It's widely known on the Quidditch Circuit that Oliver Wood would be happier single. He likes the Quidditch lifestyle, the money, the drinking, the adulation, and of course the fawning fans who want nothing more than to get him into bed!_

 _Many have said that he married at the wrong time, and many more have expressed their belief that what he is doing to Fred is cruel._

 _Is Oliver Wood cruel, or is he just chasing a youth he'll never get back. Write in and let us know what you think! In the meantime, we'll keep you up to date on the happenings between Oliver and his, possibly very soon, ex-husband._

Harry shook his head, throwing the paper down on the table. "I don't know where they get their information from," he murmured, leaning back into his husband when George appeared behind him. George rubbed Harry's shoulders, leaning over to press a kiss to his temple.

"They're right though, for the most part," George replied, helping himself to coffee. "Oliver _is_ chasing his youth. Fred could pretend that everything was fine when it was just rumours in the paper; hell, you know they live to bring misery to celebrities. That picture though…"

"How's he doing?" Harry asked, glancing at the closed door of the spare bedroom.

George shrugged, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know. He's making a valiant effort to pretend that he's fine, but really? I'm pretty sure he's breaking on the inside."

"Does he think he'll go back? That things will get better?"

"I have no idea. Part of me hopes that he will, that they'll be fine, but a small part of me kinda just wants to kick Oliver's ass."

Harry sighed. He couldn't imagine how badly Fred must be hurting. He didn't even want to think about how he'd feel if it were pictures of George in the paper, though to be fair, they'd had their own share of rumours.

They enjoyed picking them apart, giving each other alibi's for when they were each supposedly out sleeping with other men, and paid the paper no notice normally, but a picture. Harry shook his head. He'd really believed that Fred and Oliver would go the distance.

They'd been so happy when they got married.

The door to the spare room opened, and Fred walked out, sleep rumpled and rubbing tiredly at his eyes.

"Morning," he greeted quietly from the hallway, wandering off up the hallway towards the bathroom.

Harry checked his watch and cursed, putting his coffee cup down on the table and jumping to his feet, running towards their bedroom.

"Late again?" George asked, when he returned, fully dressed and fastening his cloak around his neck.

"Always," Harry agreed, taking a moment to press a loving kiss on George's lips. "I'll see you later. I'll send Prongs if I'm going to be late."

George nodded. "Love you, babe."

Harry grinned. "To the moon," he replied, running down the stairs to the door that would take him out onto Diagon Alley. He had Auror Rookies to teach.

…

Oliver sat alone in the house he and Fred had picked together, his head in his hands. It had been sixteen days since Fred had walked out on him, and he'd hardly been out of the house. The Prophet was delivered daily, with more and more outrageous accusations against him, and speculation as to when Fred would make it official and send him divorce papers.

He wanted to go to Fred, to promise him that nothing happened, or nothing more than a dance that got a little bit too close.

He was a coward though.

He didn't know how to admit to his husband that in part, the papers were right about him. He'd been increasingly chasing his youth over the past few years, more so in the last two months.

He'd been informed by his management that this would be his last year as first string Keeper. They'd offered him a place on the training team, with a very gracious salary to go with it, but he'd been fuming that they were replacing him.

He wasn't old! He was still able to stop the Quaffle from going through the hoops, as well as he done when he was in his twenties if not better.

Granted, when he was injured, it took a little bit longer for him to heal than it had a few years ago, but in general, he'd kept himself in good shape.

For the first few days after Fred had left, Oliver had kept the hope that Fred would come home under his own volition, and that they could talk about things.

He'd realised that he'd been neglecting his partner in favour of increasingly heavy partying, and he'd realised that he couldn't keep pretending like he was twenty again. He wasn't twenty and he wasn't a bachelor, and he needed to stop acting like he was.

He knew all that.

He just didn't know how to convince Fred to give him the chance to prove it.

Picking up a freshly quilled letter off the table, he read it through a final time and scrolled it before giving it to his own to deliver.

Throwing himself back on the couch, Oliver hugged one of Fred's robes close to his chest. He just wanted his husband back.

...

"Get your lazy ass out of bed, Wood," a voice shouted, throwing the curtains open.

Oliver cringed away from the light, bury his head under Fred's pillow that he'd been sleeping on. That too was tugged away, and Oliver cracked his eyes open to glare at the intruder.

"Potter, fuck off," he whispered, afraid that if he shouted, he'd only be hurting his own head.

"Get up! I'll be waiting downstairs, you've got five minutes," Harry replied, not bothering to worry about Oliver's head. "And don't think for a second that I won't come back up and spell cold water over you until you do get up."

Oliver groaned as Harry left the room with a slam of the door. He was a bastard.

Forcing himself up from the bed, he moved to the bathroom, appalled when he caught sight of himself in the mirror. He looked _unkempt._

When we entered the kitchen, it was to find Harry helping himself to the top of the range coffee machine. Not that Oliver cared about Harry helping himself in the house, hell, he and George were there half the time anyway.

Or they used to be.

Harry handed him a coffee and nodded at the table for them to sit.

"You're a mess," Harry informed him, as if the mirror had not already done so. "How are you gonna win Fred back when you look like that. Damn, Oliver, even your most diehard fans wouldn't scream for you if you went out like that."

"Like I care about them," Oliver muttered. "And what do you mean, win Fred back? He hates me. And with good reason."

"Oh, Merlin, are you still not done with the self pity party? I left it this long hoping that you'd have finished playing the violins for yourself."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Why are you here, Harry?"

"Because my brother in law is at my house with his twin, crying over your stupid ass," Harry replied matter of factly. "And because, believe it or not, I care about both of you and want you both to be happy. So, general advice, listen up."

Oliver nodded to show he was listening.

"One, you are not twenty anymore. Deal with it and buy a new broom or something, but for Merlin's sake, get over the crisis you're having. Two, Fred should be your first priority, always. I don't care if it's a pick up game for kicks, or a Cup final, he should be more important than Quidditch. Three, you need to stop thinking about you. Think about him, how he's feeling, what he wants to do. Hell, Ollie, when was the last time you took him anywhere that wasn't to do with Quidditch?"

Oliver gaped at Harry.

"And specific advice, tailored specially for you? Get your head out of your ass, stop being a coward, and come and talk to him. He loves you, Oliver, you just need to show him that you love him as much as you did when you married him."

Harry left him to his thoughts before he even had time to reply, squeezing his shoulder as he passed. Oliver didn't know how much time passed while he sat in the kitchen, thinking over Harry's words.

He knew that Harry was right.

He knew he had to fight for his marriage.

First though, he needed to have a shave, because his cheeks were goddamn itchy.

…

George answered the door, raising his eyebrow when he saw Oliver standing there, clean shaven and showered, a pleading look on his face.

"Can I come in?"

George nodded, gesturing with his chin for Oliver to go upstairs.

"Owwwww," came a cry from the living room. "I think I pulled a muscle!"

He entered the room to find Harry and Fred in front of a tv screen, remotes in their hands. Scattered around the floor were a myriad of video games.

George followed him into the room, clearing his throat to get the attention of the two playing games. Harry looked up and smiled at Oliver, but Fred was still whining about his leg and didn't notice him straight away.

When he did see him, Oliver watched the laughter leave his eyes. He felt his heart sink.

"Oliver," Fred greeted calmly, pulled muscle apparently forgotten. "What are you doing here?"

"I… can we talk? Please?" he asked. He wanted to cringe at the pleading, begging tone but he was desperate and… well, it was Fred. There was nothing he wouldn't do for the red head, and if that meant embarrassing himself, then so be it.

There was a pregnant pause before Harry stood up. "We'll leave you two to it," he murmured, walking out of the room and pulling George by his remaining ear when it looked like he planned to stay in the living room.

Oliver crossed the room to sit beside Fred on the sofa.

"I know I've fucked up over the last few months," he started quietly. "But before I tell you why, I'd just like to say that I didn't do anything with the guy in that picture. We were dancing, and I know it was inappropriate dancing, and I am sorry I did it, but I never cheated on you, Fred. Not ever."

Fred nodded minutely.

"The management at Puddlemere are replacing me," Oliver admitted, swallowing hard. "And rather than being a mature adult and coming and telling you, I tried to prove to myself that I wasn't past my prime. I messed up, Fred, big, I know that."

"Are you over your not-quite-midlife crisis?" Fred asked, looking at the floor.

Oliver nodded, then replied verbally in the affirmative.

"I can't keep playing second best to a Quaffle, Ollie. I need to know that you're in this with me, that I'm not trying to keep our marriage together by myself. I need to know that you still love me."

"I do," Oliver replied immediately. "I love you so much, Fred, so much. And, while I've been a fool and made you feel like it, you've never been second best. Never. I just… I lost track of what was actually important. I'm sorry, Fred, I really am. I love you."

"I love you too."

Fred looked up and met Oliver's eyes, and immediately he knew that things would get better. He could see the love shining from Oliver's eyes again, something he hadn't seen in a while. He smiled.

"Take me home, Ollie."

…

George looked at Harry as the door slammed, and nodded to the living room. When they found it empty, Harry smiled.

"What's that smugness for?" George asked, wrapping his arms around Harry's waist.

"No reason," Harry replied, his smile turning to a grin. He knew that George had some inkling that Harry had been to see Oliver.

"You're a magnificent prat, Harry Potter."

Harry shrugged. "Probably."

"We've got the flat back to ourselves," George murmured, nudging his nose against Harry jawline before he pressed butterfly kisses on his neck. "I'm going to make you _scream_."

Harry shivered against him, before he stepped out of George's embrace, took him by the hand and pulled him towards the bedroom.

They had noise to make.

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 **Written for;**

Love In Motion - FredOliver

Ways To Say - 71. "No Reason."

WC Disney - Prince Ali - Someone pretending to be someone they're not.

WC Book Club - Francis Goldsmith - Pregnant / hope / pleading

WC Showtime - 17. March of the Witch Hunters - Coward

WC Days of the Month - World Marriage Day - A Married Couple

WC Buttons - Character, Fred Weasley / Word, Official

WC TV Show - Dr Lance Sweets - "I think I pulled a muscle." / Video Game / Giving Advice

WC Character Appreciation - 18. A man with red hair

WC Lyric Alley - 2. That things will get better.

Resolutions - 35. A character who died, give them a happy ending.

Serpent - 32. Blonde Hognose Snake - Whisper

Scavenger Hunt - 9. A Pairing you've never written.

Library - Chronicles of Narnia - Betrayal / Magnificent / Valiant

Insane House Challenge - 77. FredOliver


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